foot, wearing a fur cap, with a
dirty sack round his loins and a long crook in his hand--a regular
figure from the Old Testament--called off the dogs, and taking
off his cap, went up to the chaise. Another similar Old Testament
figure was standing motionless at the other end of the flock, staring
without interest at the travellers.

"Whose sheep are these?" asked Kuzmitchov.

"Varlamov's," the old man answered in a loud voice.

"Varlamov's," repeated the shepherd standing at the other end of
the flock.

"Did Varlamov come this way yesterday or not?"

"He did not; his clerk came. . . ."

"Drive on!"

The chaise rolled on and the shepherds, with their angry dogs, were
left behind. Yegorushka gazed listlessly at the lilac distance in
front, and it began to seem as though the windmill, waving its
sails, were getting nearer. It became bigger and bigger, grew quite
large, and now he could distinguish clearly its two sails. One sail
was old and patched, the other had only lately been made of new
wood and glistened in the sun. The chaise drove straight on, while
the windmill, for some reason, began retreating to the left. They
drove on and on, and the windmill kept moving away to the left, and
still did not disappear.

"A fine windmill Boltva has put up for his son," observed Deniska.

"And how is it we don't see his farm?"

"It is that way, beyond the creek."

Boltva's farm, too, soon came into sight, but yet the windmill did
not retreat, did not drop behind; it still watched Yegorushka with
its shining sail and waved. What a sorcerer!

II

Towards midday the chaise turned off the road to the right; it went
on a little way at walking pace and then stopped. Yegorushka heard
a soft, very caressing gurgle, and felt a different air breathe on
his face with a cool velvety touch. Through a little pipe of hemlock
stuck there by some unknown benefactor, water was running in a thin
trickle from a low hill, put together by nature of huge monstrous
stones. It fell to the ground, and limpid, sparkling gaily in the
sun, and softly murmuring as though fancying itself a great tempestuous
torrent, flowed swiftly away to the left. Not far from its source
the little stream spread itself out into a pool; the burning sunbeams
and the parched soil greedily drank it up and sucked away its
strength; but a little further on it must have mingled with another
rivulet, for a hundred paces away thick reeds showed green and
luxuriant al